Not being quite with it (the usual state of affairs) I found myself in another very odd situation recently.
When my friend was leaving work I called in on my local florist to buy her some flowers.
I was croaking with laryngitis when I chose the flowers.
The florist seemed more flustered than usual. It turned out that her helper had let her down, so she was unable to deliver her Christmas orders.
Despite not being able to speak properly, I heard my own creaky voice, quite disconnected from my brain, saying that if she wanted help then I would be happy to help her with her deliveries.
So on the Friday before Christmas I was driving around the town. My car with its back seats down was filled with Christmas flowers and I was inhaling their lovely scented aroma.
I had been told that on no account was I to bring any of the various bouquets back. I had to find people in, or porches, or neighbours that would take the flowers in. Anything!
I planned a route and with my street guide open next to me on the passenger seat (because I couldn’t work out how to close it again) I set off.
I was relieved when my first customer was in.
The name on the card was Auntie Bet and as I stood on this dear old lady’s doorstep and asked if she was ‘Auntie Bet’ I realised that she was scrutinising my features as if I was some long lost relative that she was desperately trying to place and remember.
I was relieved when she finally took the flowers into her arms, but alarmed when she turned from the door and left it wide open behind her. All her precious heat was escaping into the cold air.
Five minutes later, w hen I set off to find the next person on the list I drove past Auntie Bet’s house, and was worried to see that the door was still not closed.
However, my concerns about Auntie Bet disappeared when I tried to negotiate a very busy roundabout. I had been told that the next address was particularly tricky to find. I was unable to remember anything more about the complicated directions I’d been given other than the first part of it, ‘turn left at the busy roundabout.’
I turned left and found a safe place to park near a park anxious to avoid the likes of Clamper Man (see previous post).
I studied the map for a while but could not find the street I was looking for. I decided to walk instead and ask.
I picked up the bouquet and set off. Ten steps away from the car I began to worry that something was wrong.
I looked back at the car. Perhaps I hadn’t locked it properly. I didn’t want to have to go back to the florist and say all her bouquets had been stolen so I went back and checked it.
It was locked.
I set off again.
I met a wonderful lady who was on her bicycle. She knew exactly where I was going and even better said she’d walk with me there.
Apparently I was going to an old people’s home. Her own grandmothers had died in the same home on different Christmas Day’s, the cyclist told me. (I made a mental note that if ever I ended up there that I should skip the Christmas dinner.) I chatted about my own grandmothers. I was very close to one of my grandmothers, a spiritualist, and I was thinking about her when I got the message.
‘The card’s gone.’
It was a clear thought expressed without words.
‘Oh,‘ I said to my new cyclist friend. ‘I’ve just had a message, ‘The card’s gone.’
I set the basket flower arrangement down and we both checked the foliage. The card with the name of who was to receive the flowers with a message inside was indeed missing. The green plastic card holder was still there but empty.
We looked about us. There was no sign of it.
My new cyclist friend very kindly cycled back up the hill retracing our steps in search of it.
She did not find it.
I thanked her and decided to go all the way back to the car. ‘I’d have to go back to the florist and get a replacement card.’ I thought as I walked the long way back, though I was thinking more about the sudden flash of intuition that had told me that the card was missing in the first place. Where had that come from? That sudden inkling that something was not right?
When I was almost all the way back to where I started, I found the card.
It on the ground ten steps from the car!
When my friend was leaving work I called in on my local florist to buy her some flowers.
I was croaking with laryngitis when I chose the flowers.
The florist seemed more flustered than usual. It turned out that her helper had let her down, so she was unable to deliver her Christmas orders.
Despite not being able to speak properly, I heard my own creaky voice, quite disconnected from my brain, saying that if she wanted help then I would be happy to help her with her deliveries.
So on the Friday before Christmas I was driving around the town. My car with its back seats down was filled with Christmas flowers and I was inhaling their lovely scented aroma.
I had been told that on no account was I to bring any of the various bouquets back. I had to find people in, or porches, or neighbours that would take the flowers in. Anything!
I planned a route and with my street guide open next to me on the passenger seat (because I couldn’t work out how to close it again) I set off.
I was relieved when my first customer was in.
The name on the card was Auntie Bet and as I stood on this dear old lady’s doorstep and asked if she was ‘Auntie Bet’ I realised that she was scrutinising my features as if I was some long lost relative that she was desperately trying to place and remember.
I was relieved when she finally took the flowers into her arms, but alarmed when she turned from the door and left it wide open behind her. All her precious heat was escaping into the cold air.
Five minutes later, w hen I set off to find the next person on the list I drove past Auntie Bet’s house, and was worried to see that the door was still not closed.
However, my concerns about Auntie Bet disappeared when I tried to negotiate a very busy roundabout. I had been told that the next address was particularly tricky to find. I was unable to remember anything more about the complicated directions I’d been given other than the first part of it, ‘turn left at the busy roundabout.’
I turned left and found a safe place to park near a park anxious to avoid the likes of Clamper Man (see previous post).
I studied the map for a while but could not find the street I was looking for. I decided to walk instead and ask.
I picked up the bouquet and set off. Ten steps away from the car I began to worry that something was wrong.
I looked back at the car. Perhaps I hadn’t locked it properly. I didn’t want to have to go back to the florist and say all her bouquets had been stolen so I went back and checked it.
It was locked.
I set off again.
I met a wonderful lady who was on her bicycle. She knew exactly where I was going and even better said she’d walk with me there.
Apparently I was going to an old people’s home. Her own grandmothers had died in the same home on different Christmas Day’s, the cyclist told me. (I made a mental note that if ever I ended up there that I should skip the Christmas dinner.) I chatted about my own grandmothers. I was very close to one of my grandmothers, a spiritualist, and I was thinking about her when I got the message.
‘The card’s gone.’
It was a clear thought expressed without words.
‘Oh,‘ I said to my new cyclist friend. ‘I’ve just had a message, ‘The card’s gone.’
I set the basket flower arrangement down and we both checked the foliage. The card with the name of who was to receive the flowers with a message inside was indeed missing. The green plastic card holder was still there but empty.
We looked about us. There was no sign of it.
My new cyclist friend very kindly cycled back up the hill retracing our steps in search of it.
She did not find it.
I thanked her and decided to go all the way back to the car. ‘I’d have to go back to the florist and get a replacement card.’ I thought as I walked the long way back, though I was thinking more about the sudden flash of intuition that had told me that the card was missing in the first place. Where had that come from? That sudden inkling that something was not right?
When I was almost all the way back to where I started, I found the card.
It on the ground ten steps from the car!
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